


Impeccable Timing

by Wordsyoucantaste



Series: Nesting Fluff [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Cute Dami, Damian realizes he's a brat, Fluff, Gen, LIttle Bat, Little Bat holding a little bat, father son feels, fluffy father son, rated Teen + for language, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:25:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7344838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordsyoucantaste/pseuds/Wordsyoucantaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian and Bruce argue and Bruce says some things that really make Damian think just about how he's been treating his family and team mates. Naturally, it takes a stray bat to bring Dami to this conclusion.</p><p>Super fluff with a small bit of angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea from a video of someone holding and feeding a small bat some fruit. Because Damian taking care of a small little bat just sounds like the cutest thing ever. And because Damian has an infinite love for animals. It only makes sense.

"I swear to god, Damian Wayne, If you pull this shit again, I'll-"

"You'll what." Damian didn't ask. He cut Bruce short, his arms folding around his chest as he rest his weight on side of his hips, his eyes narrowing with a dark smile on his lips.

"Don't push me." Bruce warned, secretly praying that Damian wouldn't call his bluff. Because honestly, he didn't know what he would do if Damian pulled that stunt again. What could he do? Ground him? It's not like Damian had much of a social life outside of his Robin moniker. Take away capes and masks? He'd been down that road before, and there just was no way to simply keep Damian locked up, the kid was impossible to punish. Bruce had tried everything over the years; no dinner, intense workouts, chores, no animals (which resulted in Bruce horrifically over-feeding and then taking care of a very sick Titus that one time), forced him to spend time with Tim (to which he learned was truly unfair to the older teen), shipped him off with Jason and the Harper boy whom he hoped would find some way to irritate and annoy the boy until Damian begged to come home. No, all Bruce got was no obvious sense of caring or learning, and a horribly awkward relationship between two young twenty-something year old men and a then eleven year old child who took to archery a little too well. Bruce thanked Oliver for that one, albeit indirectly through his relationship with Roy. The closest he ever got to pissing the kid off and making him regret his stupid choices was when Bruce locked his son up in a room with Dick Grayson, Barry and Bart Allen alike, guest staring Wally West featuring a security live-feed camera. They drove the kid insane within an hour and Bruce was thrilled that Damian even began to beg Dick to let him out. Little did Damian know (that is, until he pieced it all together) that Dick was the Speedsters' informant on just what buttons to push on the kid. Too bad Bruce couldn't do that again. He doubted that a punishment that was comically constructed to annoy his then twelve year old boy would no longer work on his much older sixteen year old status. Bruce contemplated taking away books and art materials, but it turned out that Damian liked just sitting alone with his thoughts as much as he loved sketching the local bird population just outside the manor.

"You always say don't push me, but yet, here I am, pushing." Damian pushed his finger against his father's still Bat-clad chest. "Here I go, doing it again..." Damian reached out to do it one more time but was met with a large hand gripping his hand firmly as Bruce scowled down. "Must have pushed one too many times." Bruce silently realized that he had Dick to blame for this level of blatant and annoying smart ass remarks. He made a note to properly thank his eldest later for this.

"I'm serious Damian. You will hurt yourself one of these days if you keep-"

"Tt. Please, Ive been doing this for years. You're just now choosing to punish me for it because you don't me to end up like Todd." Damian smiled curtly. "Again."

Now Bruce had it. He forced his grip on Damian's still narrow shoulders, dragging him as he threw the boy into a chair and forcing him to sit. Damian made no note of feeling remorse, not even for the way he had managed to piss Bruce off. "You don't want to listen to me? Fine. Jump off buildings taller than your grappling hook can handle. Dive into frozen rivers, not knowing any point of exit. Drop into a room filled with armed marksmen with no contingency plan. Break your leg, give yourself a concussion, sever your spine for all I care. But when you go too far, and you will because I know you and you're just as thick skulled as I am, don't come crying to me about how much regret being so senseless and impatient. I won't listen to it. And neither will Alfred or Dick for that matter."

Damian blinked slowly. He began to roll his eyes, "You can't tell others to not help or listen to me."

"I mean it. I can no longer let myself care about your well being when you seem to just not care what kind of consequences your actions have on others. On me."

"Don't be melodramatic. It doesn't suit you." Damian furrowed his brow and Bruce tried not linger too long on the reminder that Damian looked so much like himself, it was almost like staring into a time-machine mirror. He had his eyes, his nose, his eyebrows and the same coal colored hair that stuck out in every single direction. All that and the boy still looked like Talia; her bronzed and sun-kissed skin, the cool green of her eyes in his, her lips and the way they curved smoothly into a cocky smile. He even showed that he had less of his father's physique, proving to be tall still, but narrow and lean, not built for brawn and brute strength like Bruce. "You'll have to get over this eventually. It's not like you'll hold some sort of grudge against me for the remained of our lives all because I'm a little bit more adventurous than you."

Bruce shot his trademarked "Watch me" grin before leaning in close, grabbing Damian's hair and holding the boy's face still. "Have fun, Damian." He planted a big and obnoxiously loud kiss on the teen's forehead, causing him to squirm before he walked out towards the stairs leading out of the cave.

Damian sat, his feet still on the floor as he rolled his head back into the over sized computer chair. His father couldn't be serious, could he? Bruce couldn't hold some kind of hatred against Damian like that; it was his father for crying out loud. He had to love him, right? Damian had certainly earned that much, no? Still, Damian couldn't help but remember when there was an extended period of time where Bruce and Dick didn't speak, when Grayson had left the Robin mantle to become Nightwing. Bruce retaliated by taking in a new Robin, Todd, who only made that last so long when he had a bad run in with a clown carrying a crowbar. Grayson was Bruce's favorite. Could do no wrong in Bruce and Batman's eyes alike. He was perfection, and Damian wasn't one to argue against that anymore. Everything about Dick screamed excellence. Even when Nightwing fucked up, he still fucked up beautifully. So if Bruce could do that to the prodigal son, who's to say that he wouldn't do the same, or worse, to Damian? The teen's skin chilled at the idea.

He wouldn't let many in on it, but he loved his father. And more than just the obligatory 'I'm your son' kind of way. Damian loved and respected everything about Bruce. It wasn't always like that, Damian could remember a time when Bruce was just the man who happened to impregnate his mother (or however that happened, he didn't want to think about the nitty gritty details of his biological origins). A time when Batman was weak and unwilling to do what was most necessary. A time where he found frivolous and over-the-top Dick Grayson to be his favorite. But times have changed, Damian grew up, and the love he began to harbor for Bruce was rooted down to his core. Deeper than the affection he was overwhelmed with when getting the chance to hang out or go on patrol with Dick. And that was saying something because as far as everyone in the Justice League and Teen Titans was concerned, Damian Wayne and Dick Grayson were inseparable.

Tucking his knees into his chest and planting his feet on the edge of the computer chair, Damian let out a small huff. He was such an asshole. And he knew it. And while his initial intentions were good, his execution and concluding results said otherwise. And it wasn't just with Bruce. Damian was like this with just about everyone. Maybe he had authority problems? Then again, what teenager doesn't.

When his mind turned to images of him crippled, needing help just to stand up and walk from one place to another, when Bruce's brilliance was no where to be found, when he felt the devastation of loneliness hit him, that's when his emotions got the better of him and he began to let the tears slip by silently. He was reckless. He was inconsiderate, willing to put himself and possibly others in danger because of his incessant need to show off and be the best. He was rude, he talked back, he insulted everyone, and almost never had anything nice to say at all. And when he wasn't busy trying to exasperate the already delicate ties with his team mates and family members, he sat silently in a corner and ignored them completely. There was no in between. He was still the same ten year old brat that traveled from Nanda Parbat all those years ago. And he hated himself for it.

He shifted in his seat, wallowing in his own self pity when a shrill squeaking sounded, clanking and crashing following suit, loud enough to put Damian on alert. He sniffed, pulling his head up and composing himself, ready to possibly tell off anyone that had wandered into the cave. "Who's there?" He said when no one appeared in front of him. He considered that maybe Drake was pulling another prank on him, but reconsidered the possibility when he realized that this simply wasn't Tim's style. He also had to give credit to the fact that Tim was too good to make a misstep like that if he ever did try to scare Damian like this

He followed the noise of the continued odd squeaks and quickly assumed that another bat lost it's way and crashed into something. It wasn't the first time, and Damian made a note to warn Bruce that maybe the man should set up some kind of barrier so that he doesn't put anymore little flying animals in harm's way. At a desk nearby, Damian saw once sort of organized papers scattered everywhere. He groaned, knowing he'd be the one to have put the case files back together (why did Bruce even insist on keeping paper files? It's why they had computers, right? Old man). He reached the desk begrudgingly, ready to start shuffling papers together when he stopped dead in his tracks; nestled inside a folder on top of some finger print records was a small juvenile bat. It's black nose and slightly reddish brown body twisted and it's small little beady eyes made contact with Damian who's jaw dropped a little at the sight. He moved carefully and slowly, trying to pick the bat up and help him back on his flight, but that's when Damian saw it; blood on it's wing. Pulling his cape off quickly, he made a bundle in his arm, moving to pick the bat up slowly and wrap him up in a blanket; something the small animal seemed appreciative of as he began to chirp a little, his eyes closing slowly and opening again until he fell asleep in Damian's arm. Logic said this was a wild animal and there was no such place in the manor for such a creature. Emotions told him that this little bat needed him and needed to be coddled while he healed. Guess which side Damian listened to.

Not even caring to ask or inform anyone, Damian made his way up into the kitchen, bat still in his arm as he began scouring the pantry and fridge alike for something, anything to make the little one feel better. He found some cooked fish from the night before, tearing a small piece and offering it to his new friend. But when the bat didn't take the food, Damian suddenly wanted to smack himself. Bats eat fruit. Most of them anyway. Damian moved quickly, grabbing a banana and ripping it open, biting off a small little piece and dropping it from his mouth into his hand, holding the new offering out the same as the old. And when the little bat pipped up again and began snacking eagerly, Damian felt his heart tug; He had never fallen in love with a human, but Damian was sure the experience was something similar when he often found sweet and trusting animals. Surely, this was love; holding a small helpless and injured animal while feeding it it's favorite food.

And that's when it hit him again, as though he kissed a speeding freight train. Everything Bruce had said, it all came down to this. All his father wanted to do was take care of Damian, but Damian wouldn't let him, wouldn't listen. And by doing so, he was denying his father the same sort of thrill that he too got from caring for something smaller than him.

"You have impeccable timing, little bat." He tried to not laugh too hard when he realized he sounded like he was talking to himself; Little Bat was a nickname that all of the "Bat Bros" (as Dick liked to call them) had given Damian when he was a kid. Something about Damian never being a true Robin, rather he was a Bat and always would be. He never thought about it now, but he realized that he wasn't really a bird. He was a bat. He was Bruce incarnate. He was the heir to his father's legacy. And all Bruce wanted was to make sure that he would see his adult years. Nothing about passing down the cape and cowl. Nothing about proper justice. Just pure, unadulterated concern and love. And Damian had been denying the man a chance to feel the relief that came with heeding his words. "If only the old Batman could see this. He'd get such a kick out you..." He bit off another piece of banana and continued to feed the fluffy bird-like creature who still squeaked with delight.

Little did Damian know that back in the shadows, just around the corner, Bruce stood with his arms folded and a smile on his lips. Watching Damian take care of a small and injured bat perhaps was the best way to teach his son a lesson in that every action has a consequence for those you love and who love you most. Having stolen so many moments for himself now, Bruce pushed off the wall, walking forward with the smile still on his lips as he came behind Damian. "Who do we have here?"

Damian smiled an evil little smirk as he looked up at his father. "It's Brucie."

Bruce's smile was gone in a second. "Really?"

"Yep." Damian said matter-of-factly, ignoring how his father went into the fridge for something. "He's dark, he likes making a mess of paper case files, lives in a cave, no obviously present relatives, and he's stubborn." Damian spit out another piece of banana. "And he's quite pleased when snacking on fruit after a stressful flight." Damian turned to find Bruce with a banana in his own hand, the older man's jaw completely slack as his eyes narrowed darkly.

"Don't say it."

Damian's eyes twinkled.

"Damian..."

"But look at him, he has your eyes!" Damian brought the still chewing bat directly up to Bruce's face, it's bright and shiny little eyes seemingly filled with joy while he munched away. Bruce felt a pang of regret when his eyes glazed over as he noticed that the small bat was curled and cuddled in Damian's uniform, it's small figure outlined by a large yellow R.

"Remind me to never share a bottle of wine with your mother ever again." Bruce walked away, leaving Damian laughing hysterically before he continued to snuggle up to the little bat in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick meets Brucie. Bruce and Dami fluff. Like so much fluff. Daddy Bats level fluff. you've been warned.

There were very few things that could surprise Dick Grayson when it came to the possibilities of any activity going on inside the manor. Just last week, he had found Jason playing target practice with apples resting on Tim's head. But this? This was too much. Dick hadn't fawned over Damian like this since the first time he saw the boy proudly wear his old tunic when he himself had to take up the mantle of Batman. Now here stood a very much nearly grown-up teen aged Damian humming and bottle feeding a small something... was that a bat?

"Uh, whatcha got there?" Dick leaned over Damian's sitting and smaller frame (though he noted that it wouldn't be much longer until Damian wasn't smaller than him).

Damian, looking like a child who had discovered that Santa Claus was real, grinned up at Dick, cooing out "It's Brucie."

Dick lost it. "You named it after Bruce?"

"Your point?"

"My point being," Dick moved to sit in front of Damian, doing his best to not absolutely lose it. He'd never seen his little Dami so infatuated with something before. "Don't you think that maybe your dad would hate that?"

Damian snorted. "You should have the look on his fucking face, it was priceless."

"Glad to know we're on the same page then, Little Bat-" Dick choked for a second, realizing just what it was he was saying. He then noticed that Damian didn't throw his usual fit over the name. Instead, he pushed his pinky up and down the length of the bat's nose, his eyes glistening with pure adoration when the bat let out a small squeak. "It's so cute." Dick leaned in slowly. "Can I get close, or...?"

"Yeah, you wanna hold him?" Damian offered up, wondering how the hell he'd explain that his tunic had become a permanent nesting blanket. Dick was almost too eager as he slowly reached for the bundle, holding it in his hands as he cooed at the small animal. "What did Bruce say about keeping a wild bat in the house? Hell, where the hell did you find this little guy?"

"Tt. You think I gave my father a choice?" True to Damian's nature, Dick could admit that he asked a stupid question. "He's injured, his wing is torn up, he's been hurt pretty badly. Luckily, we got some antibiotics, and he loves his new blanket-"

"You mean your Robin uniform? It's suiting."

"Yeah. Well for now, it's bottle feedings, some fuit here and there..."

"Fruit?" Dick realized he knew nothing about bats, except that they lived in caves and flew around at night and make some horrendous squealing when upset.

"Yeah. This little guy goes apeshit for bananas and mango."

"So..." Dick leaned against the table, watching as Damian pet and soothed his little friend. "How do you heal an injured bat? Does he need bandages or anything?"

"Nah." Damian grinned, bringing his nose down to touch it against Brucie's. "He just needs some rest and some food. No flying for you little one, huh?" Damian murmed in a higher register of his voice sweet little praises for the animal. "When I found him, he had crash landed into the pile desk."

Dick cocked an eyebrow upwards, confused. "You mean the file desk?"

"No." Damian stood up, unable to leave his little Brucie alone for too long. He stood directly in front of Grayson, leaning over to carefully watch his little winged pal. "I mean the pile desk. Because it's all piled up and there's no organization and honestly, it's Batman's job to clean it up."

Dick coughed a small laugh. "No intern work for Robin?"

Damian folded his arms, backing up as his eyes darkened. "Do I look like a fucking intern?"

"You look like a grounded teenage boy because you can't seem to grasp the concept that you have the worst timing ever and I've told you time and time again that I don't like you using that language." The sound of Bruce's heavy voice was enough to still scare Dick, a fact he wasn't thrilled with. Damian seemed to pay no mind. "And you..." Bruce's finger found it's direction towards his eldest son. "I have you to blame for that. Do you know what it's like, going after Harley Quinn and nearly choking on yourself when your sweet innocent little boy takes a hit directly in the shin with a large metal bar and screamed out 'fuck'?"

"I would imagine, obnoxious to say the least. I'm sure the little clown-pixie got way too much fun out of that one." Dick tried to make light of the situation. 

Dick shrank but found some bit of oddly misplace solace when Damian didn't back down. As usual. "I believe the correct phrase was 'you stupid motherfucker'. If you're going to quote me, please do so correctly."

Bruce was not amused. "This isn't a joke."

Dick was still laughing before he cleared his throat, begging for an apology as he turned his attention back to the bat that Damian still hasn't stolen back. "Someone finds it funny at least."

"Don't use Dick as your shield, you're not out of this yet."

Damian, who had now taken it upon himself to take Brucie when Dick thought it best for him to not be here (whatever the kid had done, Dick was in no position to be collateral damage of the on going war between the Bats), stepped forward, unafraid of the man that loomed over him. "What's this really about?"

"It's about you never listening to me. I am your father."

"you've made that perfectly clear and if that wasn't enough, the fact that I'm pretty much looking at my future self would do the trick."

"That's what I mean. Right there." Bruce took a seat and looked up at his teenage son; when did he get so big? When the hell did Damian go from small and furiously angry little boy to this lean and long and annoying as fuck teenager? "You constantly undermine me every chance you can. Either with a joke, or with some smart as remark and just blatant contempt, but you do this every chance you can."

Damian reached over and grabbed the small bottle from the table, bringing it back up to the small bat who desperately wanted more, as made obvious by the screeching noise it made. "Hey, it's okay little one, here ya go." Damian turned back to Bruce. "If you wanted a perfectly compliant and perfect soldier, procreating with an Al Ghul was the worst decision you've made yet."

"I don't want a perfect soldier." Bruce's brow furrowed with concern. "I want a son. I was hoping, that with time, we'd come to respect each other. Love each other even."

"Batman and love is an odd concept, even for Bruce Wayne."

"That's it. You did it again. Do you hate me? Do you not respect me?" Damian rolled his eyes. "Be honest, Damian, I can take it. This won't change anything between Batman and Robin. I just need to know..." Bruce stood up again, this time, placing his hands on Damian's shoulders, turning him so that he could look into Damian's eyes (such eyes... my son has such beautiful eyes). "And how you feel won't change how I feel. You see that bat?" Damian didn't nod, but Bruce understood his answer. "The same way you handle that bat is the same way I feel about you. You're my son. Biological accident, as you so love to put it, or not. I care about you and I just-"

Damian leaned forward, pushing his head into Bruce's shoulder and Bruce found his shirt growing wet, the mumblings still unclear, but Bruce heard the few words he needed to. "...I love you dad. I love you, please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, just love me, please, I'm..." Damian cooled down as Bruce pressed his lips into Damian's forehead.

They stood there for what felt like hours, Bruce holding Damian while Damian held a sleeping bat. And Dick stood back, smiling as he watched the two of them. "You think they can keep this up?" A voice sounded next to him, a voice he knew that belonged to Jason. And if his voice wasn't enough, the lingering smell of cigarettes and gun powder would sure as hell tip him off. Surely Tim wouldn't smell like that. At least he hoped not.

"I don't know, Jay. What do you think?" Dick turned to face his not so little brother who wore a smirk on his face. "I think you more than anyone has struggled with the whole-"

"Ya ya, I know, daddy issues. There's a difference between hell-spawn and I though." Jason's eyes found their mark on the display before them. Dick hadn't seen Jason's face soften like that before. And Jason, who had convinced himself that he had a stone heart, especially concerning Bruce, was in denial over this whole thing. Because what was before him, the way he saw Bruce wrap his arms around his son, hold him tightly like he was never going to let go and the way Damian had accepted such a gift was... well, it broke his heart in all the right ways. Because Jason himself couldn't help but think about all the times that he wanted to be hugged like that. And about all the times that he had been hugged like that. Years spent trying to loathe and hate Bruce for all that he was. A moment like this undid everything he convinced himself of, and he knew that Dick must have been feeling the same way. Because he knew that despite all the amends he and Bruce... he and Batman made, Dick, like any other Robin, wanted nothing but to beloved the same way Bruce loved Damian. And honestly, despite the unadulterated feeling of selfishness and greed, the two older men knew that they couldn't possibly ask that. Because Damian was special. Because they, each and every one of them, were all the Robins Bruce needed, all the family that Bruce needed. But Damian, well? The Demon Prince was, admittedly, the son and Robin that Bruce deserved. And who could argue against that? "Damian is his son. His true son."

Dick hated that. Hated how those words hit him hard. Shouldn't he too be considered Bruce's real son? He had taken Dick in when the young acrobat was a small child, younger than Damian was. Surely, he too could be Bruce's son?

"I love you, Damian Wayne." Bruce hushed out, and it was clear to Dick. Bruce loved Dick Grayson. Unconditionally, even. But Damian was his. His from the start. Bruce took in Dick like he was his own, the same as Jason and Tim eventually. But Damian was Bruce. Bruce was Damian. They were a unit, bonded by something unspoken and unexplainable, and as much as they never would have admitted it at first, from the moment they met, Dick knew that Bruce had found his match, found his equal.

Dick remembered that day. Bruce had stumbled through the Batcave and this shrimp sized version of himself clad in black tunic and pants crawled out, following him with this prissy air of pure ego and Dick watched in awe at the way the small boy looked just like him. And not even look like him, but acted like him too.

They continued to watch, not bothering that they'd be caught eventually, when the loud shrill squeaking began, breaking father and son apart. Dick turned to find a very confused Jason Todd. "Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"Is..." Jason ran his fingers through the white front of his raven hair. "Is that a fucking bat?"


End file.
